


My Perfect Pet

by HereInLies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Prisoner of War, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereInLies/pseuds/HereInLies
Summary: She had chosen her because she was beautiful for a Mudblood. Feisty and stubborn and prideful. Now, Bellatrix just had to get the girl to cooperate — whatever form that took.





	My Perfect Pet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaramelShadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaramelShadows/gifts).



> Written for the Captive Audience 2017 fest. Based on the prompt: _Claimed as spoils of war!_

She had chosen her because she was beautiful for a Mudblood. Feisty and stubborn and prideful. 

A gift, the Dark Lord had said, for her service. He had been so proud of her that day, the day all the bells in all the Wizard towns across the country rang in solidarity for the victory of their glorious and wonderful Master.

And she had helped. She had been by his side the whole time. Never doubting. Never questioning.

He had been so proud of her, so glad she was there. She could tell. And he pointed to the hostages who had been captured during the final battle and were now awaiting their sentences, all of them brought before their Lord, who sat on his new throne at the head of what used to be the Great Hall at Hogwarts but was now his rightful palace, with their heads lowered and their hands tied behind their backs and their mouths gagged.

They had all looked perfectly defeated and miserable, so accepting of their fate now that they were in their rightful places as outcasts. 

Except one.

Oh yes. That one. The frizzy haired Mudblood who used to think she was so smart and so special to run beside the horrid Potter creature and the Weasley scum. How she had stood there between all the other captives, her head up, chin raised, eyes defiant.

“That one!” Bellatrix had practically crowed when she had seen her, pointing at her in glee with a long finger. “I want that one!” and The Dark Lord had decreed it so.

How the girl had fought the men who grabbed her arms, twisting and turning as they shoved her over to Bellatrix. 

“You can do whatever you want to me,” the girl had said when she had been wrestled into position on her knees, her voice so loud in the giant room, but not loud enough to hide the quiver Bellatrix heard in it. “I don’t care what you do.” And then she had spit at Bellatrix’s feet, and Bellatrix had known without a doubt she had made the right choice.

She built the girl a cell in the dungeons of the manor she lived in. A wonderful spacious cell that was always just a little bit too cold. But there was room for the girl to walk around. And there were enough magical enhancements that the girl could scream until she was hoarse — and she did. Oh, did she scream! Screamed in such a way that it delighted Bellatrix to her core — and no one outside of Bellatrix would ever hear her. 

She started the training of the girl slowly. She had needs to be fulfilled, but the girl was a gift from her Lord and she could not defile a gift by rushing into things!

So slow was how they started because the girl refused to make even the smallest accommodations to her new owner. Instead, whenever the girl heard her coming, she would move into the center of her cell, standing in the same position she had been in the day she was chosen —chin raised defiantly, small fists clenched, feet planted shoulder distance apart.

But training had to commence, no matter how unwilling the subject. Bellatrix would look at the girl as she stood there, look her over from head to toe, and then laugh.

“Oh, girl, you can’t stop me!” she would tell her, the laugh echoing around the small space. And then she would begin. 

She always started with magic. A spell to wave away the dirty and ragged cloak — the only piece of clothing the girl had left — leaving her completely bare. A spell to bind her hands behind her back so she couldn’t grab on to Bellatrix. A spell to lift her into the air, to turn her body horizontal so she was positioned like a perfect human table.

And last a spell on her legs, to spread them wide, to let Bellatrix see the shiny pink flesh that no one besides her had ever touched before.

And then Bellatrix would toss her wand. 

The good part she never used magic for. No, magic was for the set up, but the touching, the torture, the prodding — that was all for her.

She liked touching the Mudblood herself, working her fingers into the girl’s tight canal, tweaking her little pink nipples, running her fingernail over her clit and even digging a thumb inside her arse. She loved seeing how deep she could get her fingers inside the girl’s vagina, and she loved seeing how many fingers she could fit inside at once. She loved forcing out moans and screams and — especially — tears from the helpless, naked girl. And she especially loved the times when she sent the girl into orgasm after shuddering orgasm, leaving her sobbing helplessly as her body continued to shake and tremble even after the touches had long since stopped.

Once the girl was fully and truly wrecked — her arse and her cunt and her thighs covered in her own juices and often mixed with blood — only then would Bellatrix lower her back down, covering her shaking body with the thin cloak, running her hands over the girl’s face, carefully smoothing back the damp strands of hair, stroking her scalp with her fingers until the girl’s sobs faded away into a fitful sleep. Then she would use her wand to move the girl from the floor to the bed, uncovering her once more to gently stroke her still hard nipples and still swollen clit, watching the girl’s body react even in her sleep, a moan leaving her lips as she climaxed once more.

Then it was Bellatrix’s favorite part, her last moment of the day with her little pet. She would once more part the girl’s legs, but this time using her hands instead of her wand, and then she would lean down, press her lips first to the muss of hair above the apex of the girl’s legs then to her swollen slippery clit and then down even further, getting the true taste of the girl all over her lips and her tongue.

Once she was satisfied, basking in the scent and the taste of her pet, Bellatrix would stand, cover the girl and then take her exit, until she returned the next day to do it all over again.

She tried hard, back when she first brought the girl home, not to make contact with her, except during their training. The girl was given her meals on a covered tray, slipped through a slot in her door. She had a toilet in her cell that was emptied by one of Bellatrix’s many house elves. 

She even made sure the girl had suitable intellectual stimulation. Every once in a while she would leave a book that the Dark Lord had recommended in the girl’s cell, and she would be so pleased when she would realize, by the condition of the pages the next day, that her pet had read it.

Sometimes, after their sessions, Bellatrix would lead the girl to the wash room she had installed down in the dungeons just for her pet. She would place the girl in the tub and wash her with a soft cloth, making sure to thoroughly clean her most intimate parts.

There, in the bathroom, was the first place Bellatrix began to see the change come into existence. In the beginning, the girl had refused to get in the tub, leaving Bellatrix no choice but to use magic to force her in, and once she had been forced in, she would sit stiffly, never blinking, never moving, as she was wiped clean and as her hair was shampooed and even as the stray hairs on her body were magically removed.

But slowly, as the days and the weeks and the months passed, the girl almost seemed to look forward to the bath, climbing, if not eagerly at least not reluctantly, into the giant tub. Once settled, she would lean back and almost seem to enjoy the touches of the cloth on her skin as it wiped away the dirt and grime. And then, at the end, when Bellatrix would slide a finger or two inside of her, pushing them in and out until the girl was coming, the moans that left her mouth were finally more of pleasure than of pain.

Bellatrix was very pleased at her progress, but she was even more pleased a few days later. 

She had entered the girl’s cell, wand in hand, to find the girl in her usual position in the middle of the cell but not in her usual stance. Instead of clenched fists, her hands were loosely joined together in front of her body.

Bellatrix eyed her and lifted her wand, ready to dispose her of the cloak that was now so threadbare it almost didn’t even qualify as clothing.

The girl looked up and met her eyes before she could cast the appropriate words.

“No,” the girl said quietly.

Bellatrix glared at her. “You don’t say no to me, Mudblood!” she said immediately.

The girl did not react in defiance like Bellatrix expected. Instead, her head lowered, so Bellatrix could no longer see her eyes. But she heard her words.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” the girl said.

Bellatrix almost shrieked. She had been instructing the girl since the day she had brought her home on how to address her, but this was the first time she had ever done as told.

“No magic, please,” the girl continued. “I would like training without magic.”

“You want training without magic?” Bellatrix repeated.

“Yes, Miss,” the girl said, raising her head to look Bellatrix in the eye.

Bellatrix moved closer to her, staring into her pupils. The girl seemed to be telling the truth, but she had to be sure.

She lifted her wand, concentrating hard. A few seconds later and she was inside the girl’s mind.

She smiled in satisfaction when she pulled out. The girl was telling the truth. There seemed to be no deception at all in what she was asking.

“Very well, then,” she said, the glee seeping in to her tone. “Remove your cloak, lie down on the floor, hands crossed above your head, knees bent, legs spread, wide as you can. I want to see your shimmering pussy.”

“Yes, Miss.” The girl nodded. Then, to Bellatrix’s immense satisfaction, she did exactly as she was told. She removed the old, dirty cloak, folding it carefully and placing it on her cot. Then she lay down on the blanket in the middle of the floor, carefully positioning her arms above her head, crossed at the wrist. Next, she brought her knees up, bending them before spreading her legs and then lowering her knees sideways toward the ground, baring herself completely to Bellatrix, her clean shaven area — the work they had accomplished the night before — on display and waiting for her.

Bellatrix found that the girl was ready to be cooperative in other ways, too. As Bellatrix touched her, fingers inside her and on her clit and pinching her nipples, the girl let her screams fall from her mouth, begging for more touches, harder touches, faster touches, and, finally, screaming her satisfaction in a series of ‘Yes, Miss!’ and ‘Thank you, Miss!’ as Bellatrix pushed her over the edge time and time and time again.

It took a while for the girl to come back to herself once they were finished, but when she had, she licked her lips and whispered the most delicious words Bellatrix had ever heard. 

“Miss,” the girl said. “Would it possibly be permitted for me to return the favor?”

Bellatrix looked at her pet. The girl had a lot still to learn, but she knew now, the girl would in fact learn it.

She had chosen well. The Dark Lord had let her pick, and once more she had succeeded in doing what was best.

Bellatrix was pleased. Very, very pleased.


End file.
